The Odds were Never in their Favor
by Buyn
Summary: Hunger Games Au. Wes/Thad centric, but the main cast is going to make some appearances.
1. Chapter 1

It was three weeks before the reaping when Wesley was assigned to repair a length of fence between Districts Five and Ten. Ten would be paying for the labor and supplies as their animal damaged it, but District Five's members were more equipped to repair the hole in the fence. He wondered why they trusted him to go alone to assess the damage and then repair it. This year was his last year to be reaped. His name would be in the the reaping seven times. Thankfully his family made enough to not require tessera. A blue shirt, uniform of maintenance workers in District Five hung in his closet, and he put it on. He looked outside, and saw little cloud coverage in the sky. Pulling a cloth hat on over his short hair, he set off to the break in the fence.

It was a warm spring day, and on the other side of the fence was a large pasture. It was fenced off into sections, and the cattle were mostly away from the section with the break. A bull was on a chain, pulled off to the side, away from the break, likely the culprit. A tanned farmhand was keeping an eye on it, but started to walk over as he saw Wes. Wes began inspecting the hole, and the farmhand crossed the pasture over to the other side of the fence. "I'm sorry about the hole," he said, taking off his worn hat, and placing it in front of his chest for a layer of protection from Wes. "This here bull went a little stir crazy when I wouldn't let him into the female's pens. He's getting antsy to start breeding with the girls this year." The bull stomped a foot at this. Wes pulled out his hammer to look busy. The wire fence would need three new panels. He'd need to walk back to the outpost and get it. The back of his neck prickled uncomfortably, and he looked up. The farm boy's dark eyes were still staring up at him. "D'ya need any help?" Wes bit his lip. It would be nice to have an extra set of hands carrying the fence back here, but it wasn't lawful for someone to cross borders. The other boy was still holding his hat in his hands. His shirt was roughly the same blue that the maintenance workers wore. Wes finally nodded.

"Leave your hat here, I don't want you getting in trouble, but I could use your help dragging the fencing. My name's Wes." The other boy tossed his hat behind a tuft of taller grass, and hurried over to the hole. He ducked under a section of the ruined fencing, and shook his hand.

"Thad."

They set off on foot to pick up the supplies at the warehouse back in Wes's town. They stayed quiet, trying not to set off any red flags with people walking by on the street. Once they got to the warehouse, Thad watched as Wes input a code on the keypad, and swiped his identification. Inside was a wide range of materials, but Wes led the way over to the fencing material. The sections were tall, but only about four feet wide. Between the two of them, they should be able to carry it easily, as Wes noticed Thad's arms were muscled from his years of outdoor work. "It's my last reaping this year, how about you?"

"Same. Thirty-three." Wes flinched. He hadn't realized that the boy had been on tesserae.

"Seven." The other boy shrugged his shoulders, and helped to lift three panels of fencing off the stack.

"My dad was injured in an incident right before I turned twelve. Can't work with the animals anymore, but he's still around. My mother didn't want my older sister taking tesserae chances, she wanted her to live her life. They think I might actually make it in the arena, if I get reaped. But I'm not planning on volunteering. My sister got married to her boyfriend right after they were both lucky enough not to get reaped, so I'm off the hook for her past two years." The two boys hauled the metal towards the entrance, and they stopped as one of Wes's higher ups was at the entrance.

"Wesley, did you recruit someone to help you? I don't recognize you, are you one of the new hires?"

Thad stammered a few moments before Wesley jumped in to save him. "He's a friend from the city, he's just helping me haul today. Won't see him again, I expect."

"Pity, you look like you could go all day on a windmill."

Windmills were tricky machines to keep maintained. Mostly, it was due to their height, as falling from one was pretty much destined to be your death. Another reason was the fact that they often caught fire. Being strapped to a flaming, sometimes exploding, device while being fifty yards into the air, was not a fun job. Thad muttered a thanks for the praise, and they left without being detained further. It was a longer walk back to the hole, but luckily, no one was there when they got back. Thad scuttled underneath the wire fence, and Wes pulled out his wire cutters. At the nearest pole, he cut the connecting ties to each segment, and then pulled the useless metal away from the fence. He fastened the first section to the fence, tying it to both sides. It was hard being so short doing this. Pulling gently, he was sure it was fixed steadily enough, that he could get a ladder later to do the top rings. He set to work on the rest of the fence.

Late into the afternoon, a small woman came from somewhere beyond the farm, with a small bag of food for Thad, who even though he surely had work to do, was still sitting close to the fence. Wes's stomach rumbled, but he knew he should finish his work first, as a gap in the interdistrict fence was an important problem for just an eighteen year old to be working on. After the woman had left, Thad slid half of something under the last section of fence that Wes hadn't worked on yet. Wes knew that Thad was on tessera, and that he should give it back, but his stomach was growling again, so he walked to the small gap to look at what was there. A small pie crust was around potatoes, and what looked like beef. It smelled like beef too, and suddenly instead of giving it back like he had planned, he was eating it. "You know," Thad said, sitting up against the fence. "If you took two days to fix this, we could talk tomorrow."

"We didn't really talk that much today." Wes wasn't sure why Thad wanted him to come back tomorrow, other than he would be able to talk to someone from outside of his district, which was frowned upon.

"If I get reaped, will you root for me?" Thad asked shyly. He had turned his face away from Wes, but Wes could tell he was blushing slightly.

"If it makes you feel better, I will root for you _if_ you get reaped." Wes finished the meal, and started working again. By three or so, he had done all of the ties on each of the sections that he could reach, he needed to fetch a ladder to finish the tall sections, and he would be finished. Luckily his house was close by, and they had a ladder that would reach. "I'm going to go get a ladder, keep an eye on my tool box?"

"If anyone tries to steal it, I'll 'Don't steal that, or I'll describe you to it's very strong owner when he returns!'" Thad joked. Wes laughed, and went off to go get the ladder from home. Luckily it was a step ladder, and he wouldn't have to lean it up against the poles of the fence. It was a little tricky carrying it several blocks, but he got it there, and set back to work. Thad nodded a goodbye as Wes set up the ladder, and Thad went to untie the bull. Leading the bull, he walked over to the female's pen, obviously getting ready for the breeding, and Wes wasn't sure why he didn't just do that earlier.

By seven that night, Wes managed to get the fence entirely fixed, and he headed home, ready for a long night's sleep. He would not think of the strange cowboy again, until the day of the reaping.

There's a strange calm going into the town square, as Wes files into the sections with the other boys his age. There aren't many his age on tessera, and he doesn't think that anyone is planning on volunteering to go this year. The district had no 'career' tributes. The town escort was Carl Howell, a man who used his charming smile to overrule anyone from the capital's unease that he looked positively normal. Dark hair, dark eyes, but a beautiful smile bred from capital treatments. "Ladies first, am I right?" He asks, his voice echoing around the solemn crowd. Reaching his hand into the glass bowl, he grasps one tab, and pulls it out, reading it aloud. "Suzy Pepper." A gasp, followed by anguished cries tear through the parents section, as a small redheaded girl walks forward through the crowd. As she takes her place on the stage, Carl puts his hand into the male bowl, grasping at one of their names. Wes looks around at the others, waiting for the name to be called. Carl looks at the name tag briefly, slightly puzzled.

"Wesley Nig-How do you say this?" Wesley sighed, and walked to come forward, sure his name was on the piece of paper. Suzy leaned over to look at the tag as he walked to the stage, and she whispered into Carl's ear. "Win? Why is it spelled N-g-u-y-e-n? I don't care. Wesley Nguyen. Oh. You're here. May the odds be in your favor this year, kids." He doesn't call for volunteers, because he knows none will come. Suzy is familiar to Wes, as they were in the same classes in school. He feels her stand close to his side as the mayor stands to do the annual reading. Wes looks out to see his parents sitting quietly together. His mother's hand is wrapped tightly around her husband's wrist, holding fearfully tight. Wesley then wonders if the boy from District Ten will root for him, now that he's been reaped. Soon, he'd be able to hold her hand as she cries in the waiting room, before he takes his first train ride. His last train ride. His father was solemn, perhaps he thinks that Wes can come home, but Wes isn't so sure. Warm fingers find his during the speech, but he squeezes them and lets go. Suzy had always wanted more than Wes had, and he didn't want her to read too much into this situation. They were probably both going to die, but she needed to stand strong by herself. Her hands did not find his for the rest of the speech.

In the waiting rooms, his parents visited him. He didn't have much family, but they were close. His boss from the warehouse came down to see him too, wishing him luck, and telling him he was losing a fine worker. His mother gave him a small pin, a flag from the days before Panem. A red background with a yellow star. Something from long ago where they used to be from. It was starting to rust, but it had been cared for lovingly the past while. Lovingly enough to last to the seventy-second hunger games. Then, sooner than expected, Wes is swept up and led onto the train towards the capital. On a monitor on the train, he sees video of the other reapings, he watches bored, until the last few districts. Perking up, he watches the tenth district. An overly hostile blonde woman calls out, "Santana Lopez," and a fierce looking girl walks forward one whom could probably take out Wes. "Thaddeus Foster," is called afterwards, and Wes sees the boy he met at the fence walk forward to the stage.

So it was that they would meet again.


	2. Chapter 2

Their breakfast was solemn. Their advisor was a past winner, who had been very showy, and had managed to kill someone using glitter, which still confused Wes. He hadn't seen that year, as he wasn't born yet, but his parents assure him it was still one of the most unique killings in the history of the games. Bryan was telling him about the training they would recieve after the stylists got through with them. They wouldn't be the first ones to reach the capital but they'd have some time to kill. After some discussion, Carl and Bryan began to talk between themselves, leaving the tributes quiet. Wes excused himself from the table.

Walking back to his car, he looked at the scenery blurring before him. The trees were slightly different now. More evergreen than deciduous, and he wondered what kind of trees would be in the arena. Would there be trees? It would make it quite difficult, but not impossible, if there were no trees. Trees were important, as they were used for fires, hiding places, sometimes food. Wes wasn't sure what he could do that would preserve his life in the arena. It's not like the arena was anything like home life. At work, all he had to do was hit something with a hammer if it wasn't working very well. That wouldn't work in the arena... unless he was very close and had enough force behind it. Well, maybe it would work, if he could get his hands on a sledge hammer or something similar. An avox servant was cleaning the car, his dark eyes deep in thought, but they looked confused as Wes walked in. His closet was full of clothes, and he wanted to wear something a bit nicer for his stylist, even though he was sure they wouldn't like what he wore. A long sleeved shirt hung by itself, separated for some reason. It was a deep purple color, and Wes was drawn to it. The material was soft under his fingers and he took it off the rod, then began to hold it up next to pants hanging there. He pulled out a set of gray slacks and held them up to himself, catching the avox's eye, he thought to ask his opinion. "Too flamboyant?" The avox shook his head repeatedly. Wes had forgotten, that this was the capital, not district five. The levels of flamboyance was about to skyrocket. Pulling out a pair of good boots, he set the clothes out to dress in closer to their arrival. he had pulled on just basic clothing this morning, and he didn't want the stylists clucking their tongues about his jeans and shirt.

As it was he still had them disapproving of his everything when he arrived in their Remake Center. First they had him shed his clothes and enter a warm bath. His lead stylist was a woman whose skin shone a pinkish hue not unlike the pigs he sometimes saw from District Ten. Her name was Sugar, a luxury item in the districts, it was plentiful in the capit Her hair was in a bun, but instead of being gathered at the base of her neck, it was gathered above the middle of her forehead. It was a deep red, not unlike the blood of those poor youth he would have to kill to survive. She spoke of things that did not matter and her assistants voices broke upon his ears like waves on the shore, leaving no lasting impressions. They scrubbed him until the hair melted away from the skin inside the tub. It wasn't the most pleasing sensation, but he found he didn't care that they were doing it either. After the bath, they massaged an oil into his skin, soothing the slight sting of whatever that soap was made of. They did a last minute check for hair, but found his skin flawless. The assistants left, cooing some sort of praise, leaving him in Sugar's hands.

He decided that listening to her prattle on about what his costume for the parade might actually be relevant, and began listening intently. "It'll be simply wonderful, setting you aglow with faux lightning. Just simple LEDs in bolt formation, not that real lightning looks like that, but we're making you look wondrous for the sponsors. But I need to take some measurements and refit the costume." Wesley sighs, because he knows the parade will be in a few short hours, and he can't leave here until then. Sugar spreads some food out on the table. "You may eat until then. Don't bloat yourself." She nearly slinks off with some black material after gathering basic measurements, before Wes remembers he's only in a robe. He eats anyway, until the time comes for him to dress in the costume. The shirt's neckline wraps around, one end a lightning bolt over his collar bone. Two stripes of blue lights go down his chest, two down his arms, which are tailored tight to the bone. He's pretty sure he won't be able to do much bending in the costume. His belt has, wouldn't you guess it, a lightning bolt, made out of the same kind of material the stripes are, glowing blue. On his upper thigh is a very ineffective pocket, shaped like a lightning bolt, blue and close to his leg. The shoes were the kind that lit up when you stepped, that every small child in District Five wanted, but never got. Sugar added a lightning bolt across his face in a blue almost black powder. His hair was swept up into small spikes of color using some sort of golden liquid.

He meets Suzie near their chariot, she dressed similarly, her lightning bolt across the opposite eye, going past her nose to point the at the corner of her mouth. Her hair was braided loosely, and the tips were golden as well, which looked much better on her red hair, he thought. Her costume was curved, to accentuate her assets, and he wished her well. They wait in silence, until it's their time to ride through the town. He hears, what he thinks is his name being hissed, but if he turns around now, he knows who it will be. Wes can't look at the boy from District Ten again, or he'll feel sorry for him. Suddenly it's their turn, and he can feel himself being pulled forward, the lights on his costume begin to dance. Suzie's lights were acting the same way, and he heard an "Ooooo," behind them as the chariot began to move through the city. They waved to the people gathered to see them, but Wes knew that they didn't really care about District Five. One, Two, and Four were the favorites most years. Winding their way towards the center of town, Wes tried to make eye contact with some of the people, wanting to seem genuinely interested in them, instead of their money that might make the difference between life and death.

They made it into the center of The Capital, ready for the speech to begin, they waited for the rest of the tributes to arrive before President Snow stepped up to the podium. The screens show shots of him, interspersed with the tributes. There's a shot of Wes and Suzie followed by District Ten. Wes feels his mouth open a little bit, as their costumes are in the same blue color as the accent lighting on black cloth. Thad is dressed as a stereotypical cowboy. A light blue plaid shirt, probably made out of silk, a vest over top of it, glittering from the sequins. His hat from home sat on his head, and a blue silky neckerchief was tied at his neck. Wes caught a glimpse of a golden badge before the camera went to a different shot.

They were in matching colors. That didn't usually happen. He wasn't paying attention as they wound through the city again to go through to the training building. He was too busy wondering why he could tell that that was Thad's hat from home.


End file.
